


Priorities

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hand-wavy medics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, On ice injury, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 15:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: “I can’t believe you picked a fight with the Bruins.” Jamie rasps, voice sticking in his throat. He opens his eyes, unsure of when he let them fall closed, and meets Tyler's searing gaze.





	Priorities

The middle of the first period Jamie is behind the Bruins net when something hits him like a freight train.

He hits the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him, cheek pressed against the ice. He’s seeing literal stars, ears ringing loud in his head. He can’t quite seem to catch a breath, chest too tight. 

And then the pain starts to filter in. 

He groans, his head pounding in time with his racing heart. His side aches, sharp and brutal. He stays down, fists pressed against the sides of his helmet as he tries to find his breath. The sounds of the game starts to filter back in- the roar of the crowd, the refs and players yelling. Someone bumps his shoulder and he bites back a groan at the sharp bolt it sends through him. It knocks the air back into his lungs though, and he sucks it in greedily, trying to chase the spots from his vision. He squeezes his eyes shut against the glare of the ice. 

The cold is seeping through his jersey, his padding. Someone clatters to the ice next to him, a mess of limbs. He doesn’t turn his head, just lays there, waiting for the medics, for his head to stop throbbing so violently, for this shitty night to be over.

“Jamie! Shit, Jamie-” Rousse’s voice is like an icepick straight to his  _ brain _ , too loud and too close. “Can you hear me?” 

He grunts but doesn’t make any move to lift his head. Maybe they’ll let him stay right here for the rest of the night.

“Hang on,” Rousse mutters as Jamie tries to open his eyes; he gives it up as a lost cause at the blinding pain attached to it. 

“Jamie?” Their medic drops down next to him. 

“Someone tell Tyler to get the fuck over here before he needs a medic too,” Rousse calls out and  _ shit _ , that gets Jamie moving because Tyler brawling with the Bruins is a recipe for disaster. 

“I need you to lay still,” a firm hand on his shoulder stops him before he can push himself to his knees and he manages to squint through his blurry vision at the familiar face of their medic inches away. His eye sight is too blurry he thinks and sinks back down onto the ice to swipe at his face, and  _ oh _ , his glove comes away bloody. 

“Tyler?” He rasps, because if he can’t do it, someone had better be making sure he doesn’t get himself killed picking a fight with someone twice his size. 

“He’s fine,” Rousse reassures him. “The refs got the fight broken up. I’ll get him.” 

The seconds seem to blur into each other after that, the medic asking him questions he half heartedly replies to, but his heads clearing the longer he lays there so that’s something. 

It hits him as he’s climbing slowly, cautiously to his feet. He’s out for the night. The pounding in his skull is bad enough he’s thinking concussion, when he can string two thoughts together, and his side is throbbing deep and viciously. He sags when he’s on his feet, the lights momentarily blinding him and frustration starts to well up, making his eyes burn and chest tighter, but someone slips under his shoulder, gets an arm around his waist and takes his weight as they slowly skate towards the box. 

Tyler’s staring back at him when he meets his gaze. 

“You look like shit,” Jamie mutters, taking in the busted cheek and missing helmet. 

“Always such a charmer Jameson.” He takes more of Jamie’s weight as they reach the Dallas box and the medics are there to help him up and towards the tunnel. Jamie fights back the tears of pain and frustration at being out of the game so early- hell, he could be out of the season if the trainers decide it’s bad enough. 

“Hey,” Tyler tugs on his jersey, drags his attention back to him. “You’re going to be fine. The team’s going to be fine. It’s just the Bruins, you know they’re pussy cats.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, which,  _ ow _ , is a terrible decision but it eases some of the tension from Tyler’s frame. They get halfway up the tunnel and then someone calls Tyler back and he reluctantly steps away from Jamie’s side as the medics take over. 

“Got a penalty I’ve gotta get through.” He grins but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you in the break.”

“Don’t get into anymore fights.” Jamie catches the intense look that passes across Tyler’s face at the order, but doesn’t get to stick around and question it as they’re both ushered off in different directions.

 

::   
  


The verdict is reassuring at least. 

It’s not what he wants- to be back in the game in time for the second period, but it’s better than what he was fearing. Mild concussion and bruised ribs. Not to mention a hell of a lot of bruises in general and a cut over his eye that needs a few stitches. 

Jamie spends the next hour in the trainers office as they go over what he needs to do (like he’s never had a concussion) and how long he’ll be out (a few games because he’s a stubborn asshole who isn’t staying off the ice longer than strictly necessary. He argues this with the trainers and medics until they agree to reassess after three games whether he’s ready- he plans to be). 

Tyler ducks his head in but doesn’t get to stay. His gaze rakes over Jamie from the door- he’s stripped down to his bottoms and the bruises are already taking on vivid colours along his side. He knows he must look like a mess. He offers a tight smile and gets one in return before Tyler has to get back to the locker room and the rest of the guys. 

They let Jamie stay in the trainer's room, the lights on low, no tv or phone, instead of sending him home with a staff member. The plus side to getting injured on home ice is that he gets to crawl into his own bed tonight which almost makes up for the humiliation and frustration of it. They have the next three days off at least. 

They lose against the Bruins. Jamie finds out from Hitchcock when he stops by to check in on him. It’s been a close game but the Bruins had managed to get the extra goal they’d needed despite how hard the Stars had played. 

Jamie can’t help but feel it’s partially his fault.

He’s got his gear bag and changed into his game day suit by the time Tyler comes and finds him again. He’s sprawled out on one of the lounge couches, arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light, despite the way it tugs at his side. 

“Hey,” he peers out from under his arm as Tyler crouches next to the couch, his hand a feather light touch against his shoulder. “Ready to go?” 

He’s stiffened up a lot so it takes the pair of them to get him up and off the couch. Tyler takes his gear bag, along with his own, and leads them back to his car. It’s a quiet drive back and Jamie spends it with his head pressed against the cool glass, eyes closed and drifting. 

He should be surprised when they end up back at Tylers but he isn’t. They keep the lights off and Jamie grabs a pair of sweats and t-shirt to change into while Tyler lets the dogs out. Even the barking is kept at a minimum with a quiet word from Tyler, which Jamie is incredibly grateful for. The pounding in his skull has plateaued for the moment in a steady ache that leaves him dizzy and sore and frustrated. He stretches out on the couch, presses the palms of his hands against his eyes and tries to breathe through it. 

“Lift up,” Tyler helps him prop up his shoulders, breathing through the discomfort before he can settle in, head pillowed in Tyler lap. Long fingers start threading through his hair and the gel and sweat must make for a disgusting combination but he doesn’t comment and Jamie’s enjoying it too much to point it out. Eventually the dogs wander back in, settling down by the couch. Despite the aching of his body he feels warm, comfortable, safe. 

Some of the self hatred begins to seep away as he centers himself around the fingers in his hair and the quiet breaths of the dogs on the floor. 

“You scared the crap out of me,” Tyler’s voice is a whisper in the quiet of the room. His fingers never still as they run through Jamie’s hair, soothe some of the pain in his skull.  “When I saw you go down and you didn’t get back up.” 

“I can’t believe you picked a fight with the Bruins.” Jamie rasps, voice sticking in his throat. He opens his eyes, unsure of when he let them fall closed, and meets Tylers searing gaze.

“I would do it again,” he promises and Jamie swallows, heart pounding, the vow heavy in the space between them and what it means that Jamie’s become Tyler’s priority. 

His long fingers leave Jamie’s hair, trace the line of his cheek, his chin, brushing across his lower lip. Jamie’s tongue darts out unconsciously, and he tastes the salt off the tip of his thumb, sees the way Tyler’s eyes widen, so open and wanting. He wants to press up, to feel Tyler’s lips against his own, to swallow his moans, to cover him up with his body and keep him from fighting, from ever hurting. 

His head throbs and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing through it. 

“You want a shower before bed?” 

Jamie shakes his head tightly, unconvinced he’d be able to remain upright long enough for it. 

“In the morning then. Come on,” Tyler prompts him, smoothing his hair back gently. “Let’s get you to bed.”

It’s slow going but he manages to get up stairs and sprawled in Tyler’s massive bed.The sheets feel like heaven against his skin and the pillow smells like Tylers shampoo and he sinks into it. Tyler leaves a glass of water and his pills next to Jamie’s side of the bed, then strips down to his boxers and slides in next to him, pressed in close under the covers. 

“Try and sleep,” he murmurs and Jamie presses further into his touch, willing the stress and discomfort away enough to sleep. Tyler presses his long fingers back into Jamie’s hair, a light, comforting touch he keeps up until long after Jamie’s finally fallen asleep. 

 

::

 

In the morning he wakes up wrapped up in Tyler’s arms, the curtains tightly closed against the sun. His head is still throbbing, a quiet ache he can feel to the tips of his toes, but with this, having Tyler pressed against him and a lazy day ahead of them, he’s certain in this moment that he can get through it. 


End file.
